Hope

Dearest Journal, 
There was this connection. Like we were bonded through the pain in our eyes and the smiles on our lips and the fire in our throats. I never thought I could find someone broken like me, but he's got cracks too. Different but the same. Mine are scars and blood on my hands and his are broken bottles and a mother that will never wake up. We're gonna share our sharp edges. Who knows. Maybe they'll fit together to make something whole.